Poem: Seasons of Destruction, Pt. III

With a false face, he wanders unawake—
A sleep ensured by pills;
If he doesn’t wake, I fear a break,
But this is what he wills

Despite all his demands, it’s out of my hands
While he remains so willfully blind;
If he cannot withstand Reality’s demands
Chaos descending is a matter of time

I can only hope his sightless gropes
Lead him out of darkness and shame—
For if my hope is but a joke,
It’s not just himself he’ll maim
~

I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s